Everything
by The Lady Fair
Summary: Hermione Granger is the Brightest Witch of her Age. But she's stuck and sick of people telling her what she should be: a broodmare or a student or an Unspeakable or… or… or! Hermione doesn't want "or", she wants it all: a career, love, a family and time to read! Fortunately, the Ministry passes a new law that gives Hermione a chance to have her everything. SS/HG, OOC, NCC/EWE
1. Chapter 1

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 **Chapter 1**

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Hermione smoothed her hair back and wrangled her mass of curls into a ponytail, wondering not for the first time how bad she would look bald. Probably terrible, she concluded as she glanced in the mirror to make sure her wand wasn't poking out of her jeans pocket again. Her parents hated the reminder of the power Hermione had over them. She hated that they saw it that way but figured it was a small thing she could do to ease the tension that existed between them ever since she'd returned their memories.

Certain her wand wasn't visible, Hermione snagged the grey blazer off the footboard of her bed and exited her room. She had several meetings to go to and while the bright yellow blouse and dark-wash jeans would be perfectly acceptable for most of them, she knew that her meeting at the Ministry required less-casual dress.

At the foot of the stairs, Hermione grabbed her purse and kissed her father, who was reading the newspaper on the plaid couch in their living room, on the cheek. "Good morning, Dad."

"Morning buttercup," he replied, his eyes never leaving the crossword he was filling out. "What's a ten letter word for 'the full monty'?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Everything."

He smirked, scratching in her solution with aplomb before patting her hand. "Mum's in the kitchen. Best say goodbye to her before you leave."

"Yes, dad." Hermione couldn't keep the dread entirely from her voice but fortunately her father had never been a very intuitive person. He waved her on, his gaze never leaving the paper.

Things with her mother had been… complicated since Hermione had returned their memories. While her father was rather staid about the whole thing, Hermione's mother had taken offense to Hermione's use of magic in any capacity. It didn't matter that she'd only been trying to protect them, Jean Granger felt that Hermione had betrayed her family and her muggle heritage by taking away their memories.

Sighing, Hermione made her way to the kitchen to see her mother. She personally thought that moving out of the house would help their relationship but didn't want to present the idea until she had somewhere else to live. Any mention of her boyfriend or Harry set her mother off so Hermione knew she couldn't move in with either of them. Especially because she didn't want to lie to her parents again.

Jean Granger had three pots going on the stove and a half-dozen casserole dishes lined up on the counter. It was meal-prep day at the Granger household and, as she had every Monday since Hermione could remember, Jean was in her element prepping the food for the rest of the week. She was chopping carrots when Hermione walked in and didn't look up at the daughter who was a near carbon-copy of herself.

"Morning, mum," Hermione greeted, sliding onto a stool at the peninsula.

"Did you sleep well?" Jean asked, moving on to some celery.

Hermione nodded. "I've got to head off but wanted to let you know I'll be in late this afternoon."

Sliding the neatly chopped carrots into a bowl, Jean looked up at Hermione with an appraising stare. "You're still going to meet with that teacher?"

Ignoring the ice in her mum's voice, Hermione nodded and picked at a spot on the counter. "You know I am. I think she's going to offer me a job."

Jean sneered and grabbed a potato to start peeling. "Rubbish. You need to go to University. Did the meeting with the Dean go well?"

No. But Hermione wasn't about to tell her mother that. The Dean of Oxford, who Jean had no way of knowing was a Squib, had known as soon as Hermione entered his office that she wasn't the least bit interested in furthering her studies at a muggle university. Graciously, he'd entertained Hermione for tea, discussing changes at Hogwarts and the Ministry and spending enough time speaking to her that if Jean enquired about the meeting Hermione wouldn't have to lie about not having gone. He'd pressed some brochures into her hands as she left, thanking her for visiting, and Hermione dug those out of her purse.

"He told me to look these over. There are a couple programs that seem interesting," Hermione said. Interesting, yes, but not enough. Not for her.

Her mum hummed, barely glancing at the glossy tri-folds Hermione put on the counter. "You're considering it then?"

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Hermione shrugged. "I have a lot of things to consider. I really must be going, Headmistress McGonagall is on a tight schedule."

"Hn." The noise Jean made was halfway between disinterest and distaste but Hermione didn't care. She took it as her cue and backed out of the kitchen, leaving the Oxford papers behind. With any luck they'd get swept into the trashcan during clean up. Hermione took the bus to a muggle area near the Leaky Cauldron, opting to walk the rest of the way instead of apparate. It was a nice day. Slightly cloudy, which helped cool down the summer temps just enough that she wasn't sweating in her blouse and jeans. Fortunately she knew the way to the Leaky Cauldron by heart because she was too distracted by her thoughts to pay attention to her surroundings.

Oxford had always been on her list. When she was a little girl, her parents and she would visit the campus sometimes and dream about which degrees she could get. It wasn't until she had received her letter for Hogwarts that Hermione had even considered there were other options. And then she'd met Harry and Ron and things had gotten increasingly crazier and Hermione had to push her dreams of Oxford to the back of her mind in order to focus on saving the world. For the past seven years Hermione had helped the Wizarding world rebuild and then focused on taking and passing her NEWTs. Now that she was done, she had muggle and magical offers for work, relationships, apprenticeships and schooling coming in just about every day. With so many things to consider, Hermione was having a difficult time deciding just what she wanted to do.

Surprised at how quickly she arrived at the Leaky Cauldron, Hermione slipped inside and looked around. She'd told Jean she was heading to meet McGonagall but that meeting wasn't for another hour. First she had a breakfast date with her boyfriend.

He waved at her from a corner booth, his bright blue eyes shining beneath red hair that she personally thought could do with a trim. It wasn't something she'd ever tell him, though, since she knew it made her sound like his mother.

"Ron!" Hermione smiled as she slipped into the booth across from him, taking note of the breakfast already set out in front of her. "I've missed you."

Reaching across the table, Ron grabbed her hand and squeezed it. "Missed you, too, Mione. Why don't you eat and I'll tell you all about our trip to Dublin. At least, the bits I can share."

Hermione nodded and tucked into her breakfast as Ron told her about his and Neville's latest auror mission. Making a point to gasp at all the right places and look shocked when she knew he expected her to, Hermione wondered just how it was the immature boy she'd grown up with figured out what he wanted to do with his life before she had. Though Ron had offers for several quidditch teams after the dust settled on the final battle, he had shocked everyone by immediately pursuing the necessary NEWTs in order to become an auror. And, Hermione had to admit, he was a damned good one.

"...the idiot couldn't even tell the difference between a stunner and a stinging hex. He basically wet his pants and begged Neville to take him to Azkaban," Ron concluded with a flourish of his hand.

Hermione giggled, picturing it. "Honestly, I can't imagine why some people still believe Voldemort is coming back. All the original Death Eaters gave up hope years ago."

Ron nodded, reaching across the table to tuck a loose curl behind Hermione's ear. She blushed and took another bite of eggs. From the look of the empty plates in front of him, Ron had eaten before she arrived. It was a little annoying, however Hermione couldn't begrudge him a good meal after an exhausting mission. Even if it sounded like the fake death eaters they'd been chasing were no more impressive than a second year in a duel.

"Do you miss it?" she asked after she swallowed.

"Miss what?"

"The real action. The danger of knowing that your opponent wouldn't hesitate to kill you?"

Propping his head on his hands, Ron looked at her with a small smile playing around his lips. "Sometimes, yeah. But, I mean, we probably faced enough danger in Hogwarts to last us our whole lives. And… well, I think it's better that my job isn't as dangerous as it used to be."

"Why's that?" Hermione pushed her plate away, mimicking Ron's posture as she rested her own elbows on the table.

Her boyfriend looked suddenly serious and Hermione worried her bottom lip between her teeth. The flush running up Ron's face to his ears was as bright as Christmas lights and Hermione's breath caught in her throat. He only got this red when he was trying to convince her to take another step in their relationship.

"Ginny's pregnant," he blurted out suddenly.

"What?" Hermione jerked back. This she had not expected.

"Yeah," he nodded, taking a deep breath as if to fortify himself before reaching for her hands and pressing on. "It's her and Harry's second, you know."

Nodding, Hermione wet her lips. She did know, James was her godson after all.

"Well. I've just been thinking about them. They've got a nice little family and stuff and I've been wondering if… well…"

As Ron reached into his pocket, Hermione felt as though all the air had been sucked out of the room. She loved Ron but surely he wasn't going to… please let him not be… not over breakfast at the Leaky… she gasped when he pulled out a ring box and wrapped her clammy left hand in his own.

"Hermione," he said, his voice wavering only for a moment. "We've been together forever. Been in love for longer than that. And I think it's past time we take the next step in our relationship."

He popped the black little box open to reveal a ring with a square cut ruby flanked by two diamonds. It was simple. It was beautiful. It was so very her. Hermione felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over her as Ron got out of the booth and kneeled on the ground before her.

"Make a family with me?" he asked.

Make a family with me.

Not marry me, but make a family with me.

The purpose of the proposal wasn't lost on Hermione and she was speechless as she nodded numbly. He wanted her to be just like Molly. Just like Ginny. A homemaker with a brood of children underfoot. Ron's face exploded into the biggest grin as he slipped the ring onto her finger. It felt heavier than it looked and Hermione glanced at it as he pulled her up out of the booth and into a hug.

"Oh Merlin," he swore into her ear, arms like vice grips around her. "I was so worried you wouldn't like it. I thought for sure you'd tell me we had to wait until you decided what you were going to do."

That would have been a good answer, Hermione realized as her boyfriend–correct that, fiancé–kissed her. She did want to wait and see what she wanted to do with her life before getting married. But when he'd proposed all mental faculties had escaped her and now she was stuck. She had trouble responding to Ron's embrace, her eyes remaining wide open as she looked at the freckled face and red hair that would probably be the prominent features of their children.

"We'll get married quick," Ron promised as he pulled away. "I bet mum can have everything ready by next month."

"Hmmm," Hermione replied, unable to think of an actual response.

Ron smiled. His blue eyes sparkled with sheer joy as he hugged her one more time before grabbing his jacket and tossing a handful of galleons on the table. "If mum can pull it off, our first kid might be in the same year as Harry and Ginny's new tot."

"Hmmmm." Hermione wondered if that was the only sound she could make.

Ron winked at her, pecked her on the cheek and disappeared out the back door to head to work. Wordlessly, Hermione slipped back into the booth and buried her face in her hands. She loved Ron. She even wanted children...several of them. So why was she not as happy as she was supposed to be?

Because, she thought sadly, she had always wanted more out of life than a half dozen children tugging on her apron strings while they waited for dad to come home. Pulling herself out of her wallowing, Hermione slipped out of the Leaky Cauldron and made her way through the entrance to Diagon Alley. Just because she and Ron hadn't discussed it didn't mean she didn't know what he wanted from her. Ronald Weasley was looking to make a woman into his mother. And as much as Hermione loved and admired Molly Weasley, that just didn't seem like the kind of life she wanted to live.

It was too early to do some shopping so Hermione moved into the shadows. Perhaps things would work out, she thought. Surely Ron would understand if she wanted to compromise. Surely he would accommodate whatever it was she decided she wanted to do with her life. By the time she disapparated away, Hermione had _almost_ convinced herself he would.

* * *

 _ **Hey there, it's me with a new story. I know, I know, I haven't published the next chapter to Motherless yet. And I'll admit I'm a bit stuck with it. Even though it's pre-written, I changed some things while editing and am trying to make it work with the next chapter. I am almost there... So please hang in there. Another thing that is holding me back is the fact that my husband and I have started our own adoption journey. And oh boy, the paperwork! It's amazing I have time for anything else between that and school. But I promise I haven't forgotten my stories!**_

 _ **This story has been in my folder for almost as long as Motherless. I'm finally on another kick with it and decided to start posting. I know exactly where the story is going and it should be a short one–around the length of Love Language–featuring a fluffy-ish SS/HG ship and the ever-overused-but-who-cares-cause-we-love-it Marriage Law. I'll post the first three chapters right away and then hopefully have even more for you once a week or so. It's obviously a bit OOC and definitely NCC/EWE.**_

 _ **As always, thank you so much for reading, following, favoriting and reviewing. I truly appreciate your support with my stories.**_

 _ **Blessings!**_


	2. Chapter 2

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 **Chapter 2**

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Headmistress McGonagall had tastefully redecorated Dumbledore's old offices in soothing creams, golds and the occasional flash of Gryffindor red. The old portraits hung on the walls, but now they remained mostly silent out of respect for McGonagall's superior handling of student and public affairs. Hermione still couldn't help but feel cowed as the last ten generations of Headmasters and Headmistresses stared down at her solo figure. She'd arrived early to their meeting and McGonagall had to deal with an issue in the Gryffindor common room so Hermione was left alone until she came back.

The ring weighing her hand down was not the only thing on her mind. While she loved Hogwarts and had often imagined coming back as a teacher someday, Hermione found she wasn't as comfortable in the castle as she had once been. The students she had seen, which were few since it was so early on a Saturday morning, looked so young. So innocent. Everyone who had been a student during the war had graduated and only a handful of teachers remained. Hermione asked Ron if he missed it–the risk, the danger, the adventure–and she wondered if her real reason behind that question was because she did. How could she return to a Hogwarts that wasn't any of that anymore?

Dumbledore's voice interrupted her. "Sickle for your thoughts, Miss Granger?"

Smiling up at the portrait, Hermione shook her head. "I'm just overthinking things, sir." _As always_ her mind supplied, but she ignored it. "How are you?"

Eyes twinkling with knowledge and something more, Dumbledore stroked his chin. "They may not have painted legs on me, dear, but my left shin itches unbearably. Have you ever had an itch you couldn't scratch?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes sir, though I suspect it's worse when you can't get any relief."

"Do you?" He smiled, his eyes narrowing cheerfully. "I've spent ages since they painted me trying to ignore it. But it's ever so hard to ignore something you know isn't quite right, especially when you can't figure out how to fix it."

As always, he hit the nail on the head. Hermione worried her lower lip between her teeth and looked down at her hands. The ring glinted in the soft light of the office.

"I don't know what I want to do with my life," Hermione admitted, not daring to look at the portrait. "Even Ron knew what he wanted to do but I just can't seem to decide. There's so many options."

"You're a bright witch, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said. She glanced up to see him examining his fingernails as though this was just another everyday conversation. Half-smiling, she supposed it was. Harry always said Dumbledore could even make talking about the Mirror of Erised into an everyday topic.

"Thank you, sir," she said when he didn't elaborate.

"Not every choice has to be an either-or," he said as they heard the steps behind the door beginning to move. "Have you ever made a love potion?"

"Yes, sir," she said, wondering at how quickly he changed subjects.

"How do you add the Ashwinder eggs, rose thorns and pearl dust in a basic love potion?"

"All at once," Hermione said. "If you don't add them together the potion becomes less effective. But what is the point sir?"

He smiled, looking like a kind grandfather instead of the shrewd plotter she knew he could be. Hermione much preferred this side to her former Headmaster.

"The point is–"

"Oh, Hermione, I am so sorry I made you wait, lass."

"No worries, Professor," Hermione said.

As McGonagall made her way into the room and called an elf for tea, Hermione glanced back at the now-silent portrait of Dumbledore. She had the distinct impression he was going to tell her something important and felt a little put-out that McGonagall couldn't have waited another minute to return. Accepting a cup of tea from her favorite former professor, Hermione shrugged off that feeling and allowed herself to indulge in pleasantries and Hogwarts gossip for a few minutes as McGonagall settled onto the settee beside her.

"When did Mister Weasley propose?" McGonagall asked, gesturing to her left hand.

Choking on her tea, Hermione spluttered it all over the front of her blouse. At the arching eyebrow of her former professor, Hermione managed to apologize and conjure a handkerchief to wipe up most of the mess.

"Sorry," she said again, refusing to meet McGonagall's gaze. "He, uh, he just proposed this morning. You're the first person to ask about it."

If the headmistress was put off by her response, she didn't say. Hermione relaxed into the couch as she redirected the conversation.

"Have you thought about my offers at all?" McGonagall asked.

"Yes. I can't imagine a transfiguration class without you."

"Well, I couldn't imagine it without Professor Dumbledore either, but we all must pass on the baton, Miss Granger. You have the talent to get a Masters, you know."

Hermione had the talent to get several Masters and that was being modest. Her lowest NEWT grade had been an O in Potions–she held the distinguishment of being the only person ever to get eight OOs in her NEWTs–and she was interested in several different fields of study in the Magical world. But she knew McGonagall was only asking about her desire to get a Masters in Transfiguration. A Masters that would allow Hermione to take over the post of Transfiguration professor, which she'd never imagined herself taking. While she was good at Transfiguration–okay, excellent at it–Hermione had been more inspired in her Arithmancy and Potions classes. And she'd never imagined she could teach something she wasn't passionate about.

"Yes," she admitted quietly. "But I haven't decided if I could handle returning to Hogwarts. So much has changed."

The bittersweet smile on McGonagall's face was rather motherly and she patted Hermione's hand. "I'm not trying to pressure you, my dear. You are the brightest witch I've ever met and I merely want to see you do something with your life. Selfishly, I was hoping that something would bring you back to Hogwarts. You'd be a wonderful teacher, you know. If it wasn't for you, Misters Potter and Weasley would never have made it past third year."

Hermione nodded. "I know. I just–"

"Think about it," McGonagall said, patting Hermione's hand. "I know mine isn't the only offer you received so spend some time around the castle today. Sinistra would probably offer you an apprenticeship if you wanted one. Filius or Poppy, too."

That was surprising. Hermione had been sure McGonagall would be upset if she accepted another apprenticeship within the Hogwarts walls.

"Now now," McGonagall said, as if sensing her thoughts. "I love you like the child I never had, Hermione. I don't care if you choose to take an apprenticeship here or go into the Department of Mysteries. I just want you to reach your full potential."

"T-thank you," Hermione said sincerely. She held onto McGonagall's wrinkled hand and squeezed it. "I've always seen you as a mother figure, you know?"

Shortly after that, Hermione left the Headmistress to her duties. As reassuring as her visit with McGonagall had been, she still couldn't help feeling guilty. Why had the idea of an apprenticeship with Professor Vector or Madam Pomfrey sound more appealing than one with her favorite teacher? And how would the woman who fifteen minutes ago called her a daughter-figure react if she chose an apprenticeship with someone else? Though she said it was okay, Hermione was used to people saying something was okay and not meaning it. Her mum, for example.

Still, Hermione thought, it wouldn't hurt to at least say hello to the other professors. At the very least she hadn't seen Madame Pomfrey or Professor Vector in ages and she had a little time before her appointment at the Ministry. Changing direction mid-step, she started up the staircase to the Arithmancy classroom. Perhaps seeing the others would help her make a decision.

Caught up in her thoughts, Hermione didn't notice the wizard winding his way down the staircase ahead of her, his head buried in a book. She bowled straight into him, a shriek escaping her as she teetered on the stair. Wouldn't that just make her day, falling down the staircase to her death? As her balance tipped precariously backwards, the wizard steadied her with a hand on her elbow.

"Miss Granger."

The voice caressed every syllable of her name like silk on skin. Startled by the familiar baritone, Hermione raised her gaze and stared into the penetrating eyes of none other than Severus Snape.

"Professor." She was embarrassed at the breathy way she said his title and quickly cleared her throat to rediscover her voice. "Thank you for catching me."

The corner of his lips turned up in a smirk. "Filch would have strung me up by my toenails if he had to clean up your brain matter."

Laughing, Hermione tried to picture Professor Snape actually being worried about Filch's threats. Though the man had changed after the war–adopting a far less antagonizing personality while still remaining a strict and formidable in his own right–Hermione knew that he was still the same man. Just… she liked to think he was now the version he always could have been if he hadn't been running interference between both sides in the war.

"Yes, well," Hermione said. "Thank you anyway. I'm sorry I ran into you; it was silly of me, running around with my head in the clouds."

"Hmmm," he agreed, marking his page and tucking the book into his robes. "And where were you running off to with your head in the… clouds?"

Stomach clenching at the way he held onto the last word, Hermione blinked up at him. Had his voice always been like that? The way he drew out certain words felt intimate rather than intimidating and she had to wonder if it was only noticeable now that she cared to notice such things or if he'd changed that much since the war. Both?

"Miss Granger?" he inquired. She realized he was still holding on to her elbow when he squeezed it ever so slightly and repeated himself. "Miss Granger."

Shaking her head, she responded quickly. "My apologies; I've lost my head today. I was heading up to see Professor Vector and Madame Pomfrey before my appointment with the Minister."

"Yes," he said, again drawing out the syllable. Hermione found herself being drawn into his black gaze as he smirked down at her. "You do sound ever-so-busy with important appointments. I imagine you're wondering if you could get away with an apprenticeship _and_ working at the Ministry where you'll save… what's a magical creature you haven't already campaigned for?"

As biting as his words were, they held little sting and Hermione found herself responding to the question instead of the barbs. "Flobberworms?"

Chuckling darkly, Severus turned and tucked her hand between his elbow and side. He started up the stairs and Hermione, feeling very much out of place being escorted by her former Potions Master, had no option but to follow her arm.

"Surely you just need to ban Rubeus from force feeding them lettuce and be done with it."

"It's really the fact that he's feeding them iceberg instead of romaine or spinach. They need more micronutrients."

They both chuckled at that and settled into silence as Snape escorted Hermione up the staircase and down several halls. She found herself replaying their short conversation as their route turned down the familiar corridor to the arithmancy class.

"Is it even possible?" she wondered aloud.

"I suspect the Ministry would be less adverse to flobberworm lobbying than other kinds," Severus answered, drawing them both to a stop at the door to the arithmancy class.

"Wha–" Hermione glanced up at Snape's face, shocked to see how changed he looked even with his usual smirk dancing around his lips. He looked at peace and Hermione was simultaneously happy for him and jealous. Even Snape had found his place in the world. She returned his smile. "I meant working at the Ministry and pursuing an apprenticeship. Or having a family and being a professor. Or getting multiple apprenticeships. Or–"

Snape pressed a finger against her lips to shut her up, his smirk disappearing as he stared down at her scrutinizingly. Hermione blinked back up at him, her heart pounding in her chest as she felt herself being pulled into his intense gaze. As he opened his mouth, the handle of the door jiggled. By the time Professor Vector had opened the door, Snape had withdrawn completely from Hermione, standing a good foot away from her with his hands clasped behind his back.

"Miss Granger, Severus. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Hermione realized suddenly that she had no idea what to say to her former Arithmancy professor. While McGonagall had said it was likely for other teachers to offer her apprenticeships, she wasn't in the habit of walking up to someone and asking if they'd be willing to extend an offer she may or may not accept. She tried to get her mouth to work, to say something, but her tongue felt strangely frozen.

"Minerva thought it would be prudent for Miss Granger to speak to you about her future. I bumped into her on my way to apologize. I have misplaced your book on Cross-Discipline Magicks and was hoping you would allow me to purchase you a new copy to replace it?"

Trying to appear as though this story wasn't entirely new to her, Hermione ducked her head as Professor Vector took Snape to the cleaners over his abuse of her kindness. Apparently the book was very rare and exceedingly valuable. Personally, Hermione couldn't imagine Snape ever being so careless as to misplace any book, let alone one he'd borrowed from the private collection of a colleague, but she kept her mouth shut and eyes down until Vector seemed finished with him and, without losing any of her sternness, invited Hermione into the Arithmancy office. Following Vector's retreating form, Hermione paused in the doorway to look back at Professor Snape.

The dressing down didn't appear to have fazed him at all and he inclined his head. "Miss Granger."

"Thank you, Professor," she said before escaping over the threshold.

* * *

 _ **Thanks for reading, following, favoriting and reviewing! It means the world.**_

 _ **Blessings.**_


	3. Chapter 3

**.**

 **Chapter 3**

 **.**

Hermione slammed her bedroom door behind her, flinging her blazer onto her bed as she fumed. How could they? Harry? Kingsley? They'd all but ambushed her at the Ministry. She'd thought she was going to discuss her future with Kingsley, possibly get a job offer or two, but as soon as she'd opened the Minister's door and seen Harry's mopey mug, she'd recognized the trap.

She just hadn't known it would be this bad.

Collapsing onto her bed, Hermione grabbed one of her pillows, buried her face in it and screamed like a banshee. A bloody marriage law! Letters with Ministry-approved matches were being sent out tomorrow and Kings had called her in to offer her an out. No doubt believing that the short time frame would pressure her into accepting his generous offer.

Only the offer hadn't been generous at all. Either Hermione could cut all ties with family and friends and become an Unspeakable or she could wait for the letter to arrive in the morning and accept her fate. Her screams turned to sobs as she remembered how Harry had encouraged her to take Kings up on the offer. " _You'd be so amazing at it, Mione. Think of the things you could do. We'd miss you, but it's not like you're around much anyway."_

The sodding arsehole.

Screams turned to sobs and before Hermione knew it she was hugging the pillow to her chest as her tears stained the bedding. It hurt to know her best friend thought a life without her in it wouldn't be any different than it was now. It hurt to know that a man she trusted, a man she had helped become the Minister, thought he could blackmail her into the Department of Mysteries. What hurt the most, though, was knowing that both of them believed she would be happy with that kind of solitary, anonymous existence. For that was what being an Unspeakable meant–giving up her name, her friends, her family and her future for the good of the Ministry.

The same damn Ministry that had tried to kill or imprison her more than once.

" _What about Ron?_ " she'd asked.

" _I love you, Mione,"_ Harry had said, sitting next to her on the settee in Kingsley's office. " _But you don't honestly think you'd be happy with Ron, do you? You're too smart to pander to his every whim for the rest of your life. You'll be bored in months. Ron will be fine without you. He'll find a nice, boring gal to settle down with and have a gaggle of children while he and Neville save the world._ "

At least Harry had been right about that, Hermione thought, wiping her face and sitting up. Though where he'd learned a word like "pander", she'd never know. Hermione looked down at the beautiful ring that still felt too heavy on her finger. The rubies caught the light from her bedroom window and she frowned. As much as she loved Ron, she hadn't been able to picture a future with him in a long time. It was part of the reason they'd never moved further in their relationship. Nevertheless, wouldn't Ron be a better match for her than some random Ministry-Appointed wizard? Or the forced spinsterhood Kingsley and Harry thought to push her into?

Wrenching the ring from her finger, Hermione flung that across the room. It bounced off the wall and rattled down the back of a bookshelf. It didn't much matter, did it? By tomorrow morning she'd either be an Unspeakable or engaged to another wizard. Any future she could have had with Ron in it was gone. His Weasley temper would rear its ugly head and their friendship would be hanging on by a thread by the time he finished chewing her out for yet another thing that wasn't her fault. Hermione sniffed and shook her head. None of her options were good.

Two abrupt knocks sounded on her bedroom door–her mother–and Hermione quickly dried her face on the blankets.

"Come in," she said, not even bothering to sound happy about the intrusion.

Jean Granger strolled through the door with a smile on her face. Hermione didn't miss the way her mom's gaze skated across her belongings, no doubt making sure there wasn't anything magical on display. Fatigued by the constant scrutiny, Hermione scooted back on her bed until her back was pressed against the headboard and closed her eyes. Her mum would let her know why she was there when she was good and ready, so there was no point in filling the silence with small talk.

More quickly than she had thought, the bed sagged as her mom joined her on it. Opening her eyes, Hermione met the blue-grey gaze of her mum.

"Did you have a nice visit with that teacher?" Jean asked.

"Hmmm," Hermione confirmed, knowing from experience that words were dangerous. Her mom was a master at picking up nuances in her speech that weren't there. Yet another source of tension Hermione had unwittingly created when she'd saved her parents' lives.

"That's nice, dear," Jean said, patting her leg. Hermione tried not to twitch under the touch–her mum hadn't so much as brushed her shoulder in passing in six years. "I took some time today to go through the brochures from Oxford."

"Oh." At the raised eyebrow from her mother, Hermione tried to temper the unpleasantly surprised sound that escaped her with an interested expression. "Were they informative?" she added.

"Very. I remember how much you liked that class–the one with the mean professor. What was it called? Poisons or Pots?"

"Potions?"

"Yes," Jean said, smiling and patting Hermione's leg again. "Potions. And I found this brochure and thought it sounded just perfect for you."

Accepting the glossy brochure from her mother, Hermione glanced at the title before unfolding it and reading some of the "fun facts" from inside.

"Biochemistry?" Hermione asked, bewildered. Science had never been her forté. Once, in elementary school, she had thrown up all over the frog she was supposed to be dissecting. Later, in a summer program for gifted students, she'd accidentally added the wrong ingredient to a chemistry test and the resulting explosion had burned a hole through the tile floor. Of course, if her teachers had been even a quarter as intense and foreboding as Snape, Hermione suspected she would have fared better.

"Why biochemistry?" Hermione stared at her mum like the woman had grown a dragon head.

Jean plucked the brochure from Hermione's fingers, humming to herself as she looked over the bold print and stationary pictures of scientists and test tubes. "Because it's just like Poisons class, darling. Only it's real."

Her mum's words were a sucker-punch. Hermione felt the blow of her words as a bruising, air-sucking pain in her gut. Barely managing to bite back her gasp, she closed her eyes and counted to ten, breathing in through her nostrils and out through her mouth. Tears burned the back of her eyelids, begging for release, and Hermione shook her head.

"Potions is very real, mom," she finally said.

"Psh. It may be real to _those people_ but you live in our world now. It's time to get your head out of the clouds and do something useful. Tomorrow morning we're going to sit down and fill out an application for Oxford. You can pick a major or I will pick one for you. By this time next year you'll hardly even notice that you're doing biochemistry and not Poisons."

Laughing mirthlessly, Hermione sat up straight and tucked her legs under her. She all but sneered at her mother as words Hermione hadn't even known she was holding back tumbled out of her. "Tomorrow morning? _Ha_! Tomorrow morning a marriage law goes into effect and I'll be getting a letter with the name of my future husband in it. I know you don't want to deal with the fact that your only daughter is a witch, mother, but _I am_. And I've lived in that world long enough to know that no husband the Ministry chooses for me will let me get a muggle degree in Biochemistry when I could be a Potions Mistress or work for the Ministry or teach at Hogwarts."

The perfect, glossy brochure crumbled and tore under Jean's hands and the woman leaped up from Hermione's bed. "I told you to never say that word in my house."

Hermione jumped up from her bed as well, squaring off with her mother as her magic swirled angrily inside her. "Muggle? Or Magic? I fought for the right to exist in both worlds, mom. Muggle and Magical. I nearly died so I can use my magic and be respected the same as Draco bloody Malfoy can. I sacrificed everything! And I damn well didn't do it so you could tell me that who I am is wrong."

"It is wrong!" Jean screeched, her face turning red. "You chose them over us when you used your magic against us. You choose that world over us every day. You think I don't see it. You think I don't _feel_ it. But I can. I felt it when you dissected my mind. I felt it when you tried to put the puzzle back together again. I feel it every day when your hand twitches, when you think you're hiding your little spells, when you lie to me so you can run off to that world. To Harry and Ron and people who never even liked you. But you're not hiding it. You're flaunting your power over us and it's wrong. You're wrong."

"Mom," Hermione deflated instantly. She thought she had known how upset her mother was over the memory thing but clearly she'd been wrong. She wished there was a way to explain, to make it clear that if she hadn't taken such drastic measures, they would all be dead. Reaching for her mom, Hermione bit her lip when Jean flinched away from her touch. "Mom, I'm sorry. I was protecting you. The only way I knew how. I never meant to hurt you."

"Well you did. And you are. And if you're going to continue to live in that world then you'd better hope whatever husband your government chooses for you wants to get married soon. Because I won't have you living under my roof any longer. Not if you continue to play with magic."

Bellatrix's cursed knife hadn't cut as deep as her mother's words. Hermione grabbed onto her headboard for support as her legs threatened to fall out from under her. "What are you saying?"

Jean tossed the now mangled remains of the Biochemistry brochure onto Hermione's bed and stared at her daughter with a look that so closely resembled Lucius Malfoy's disdain, Hermione wondered for a moment if they could be distant relations. "I'm saying that you either snap your wand and forget all about that world or I want you gone by tomorrow morning."

"Mom," Hermione shook her head, her knuckles turning white as she gripped onto the headboard and tried to remain standing. She failed and sat down, heavy, onto her bed. "Mom, you can't ask that of me. Please. Magic is as much a part of me as my mind or my heart or my soul. You don't know what you're asking. Please."

But apparently her mother was serious. Hermione watched as Jean Granger walked calmly to the door, as if she hadn't just given her only child an impossible ultimatum. One that, because Hermione _was_ magical, was as binding as any wand oath ever made.

With one last glance at her daughter, Jean frowned. "Have a nice life, then."

* * *

 ** _Thanks so much for continuing to read!_**

 ** _Blessings._**


	4. Chapter 4

**.**

 **Chapter 4**

 **.**

She had nowhere to go.

After packing up all her belongings, excepting the furniture and muggle books her parents had bought for her, Hermione apparated to a spot just outside of Hogsmeade and sat down on her trunk to have a good cry. Her mother had disowned her, Harry and Kingsley had betrayed her and she was going to be forced to marry a probable stranger in the near future. On top of it all, she had nowhere to go. The Burrow and 12 Grimmauld Place were out of the question. Harry's words had cut her deep and she didn't want to risk bumping into him or Ron just yet.

Ron… Hermione knew she had to contact him soon. In just under seventeen hours they would both receive an owl from the Ministry that would render their engagement null and void. At the very least she owed it to Ron to tell him herself. He'd be mad no matter what, but if he found out she'd known about it and not gone to see him… Hermione sighed. It would make their childhood battles look like innocent wand sparks.

An afternoon breeze cooled the small forest alcove Hermione was sitting in and she pulled her grey blazer out of her beaded bag. Slinging it over her shoulders, Hermione buried her hands in her pockets to stay warm as she worked out what she was going to do for the night. The fingers of her left hand brushed against something solid and Hermione wrinkled her nose. Slowly, she withdrew a book from her pocket. When did that get in there?

Running her fingers over the faded leather cover, Hermione felt rather than saw the once embossed title. It was unreadable, all but erased from the book by years of repeated study. She flipped the book open to the cover page and gasped when she read the title. _A History of Cross-Discipline Magicks_.

It was the book Snape borrowed from Professor Vector. The one he'd told the Arithmancy Mistress he had lost and would have to replace for her. There wasn't a doubt in Hermione's mind that her former Potion's professor had slipped the book into her pocket while they'd been waiting at Vector's door and made up a story to cover for why he no longer had it. But why?

Turning the page, Hermione ran her finger down the index out of habit. _Introduction to Cross-Discipline Magicks_ , _Charms: the Chameleon of Magick_ , _The Art of Arithmancy_ , _Potions: There's more to it than you think!_ , _Transfiguration and its Tricky Uses_ … the list went on and on. There was even a chapter on how Divination could be used to discern the best place to harvest potions ingredients and an entire section–nearly half the book!–devoted to the suggested practice of combining Muggle sciences with potions and arithmancy. Hermione quickly flipped to that section and began reading, her eyebrows rising steadily as she lost herself to the ideas proposed within the text. Before she knew it, she'd _accio'd_ a notebook from her bag and was scribbling down her own insights and ideas as she carefully flipped through the book, all thoughts of Snape and why he'd given it to her gone far, far away.

So involved in the book was she, that Hermione hardly recognized when afternoon turned to twilight. She was squinting at the small-printed words and rolling her shoulders every time she switched to take notes in the notebook, her handwriting growing larger and messier as the sun set. The once cool breeze turned bracing and Hermione's teeth chattered as she hunched further over the book, too preoccupied to remember to cast a warming charm.

She was just sucking on the end of her quill, pondering the potential of using chemistry to increase the efficacy of the Wolfsbane potion, when the book was plucked from her hands.

"Hey," she jumped up to confront the offender but immediately bent back over as her thighs cramped in protest. "Ah, ow… give that back, please."

A thin, ebony wand flicked in front of her face and the pain in her legs immediately disappeared. Her relieved "thank you" was cut short by the person who stole who book.

"If I had known you hadn't the sense to read the book indoors, Miss Granger, I wouldn't have loaned it to you."

"P-professor Snape?" Hermione gasped, standing straight and wincing only slightly as her back twinged in protest. How long had she been sitting there?

"In the flesh," he drawled, smirking slightly as he proffered the now-bookmarked and closed tome back to her. Hermione clutched it to her chest with one hand as he waved his wand and levitated her trunk behind him. She unconsciously fell into step with him as he headed back down the trail, conditioned to follow her former teacher from years of getting in trouble with Harry and Ron.

"Now," Snape said. "Can I presume by your luggage you have decided to take one of the offers up at Hogwarts?"

"Not exactly," Hermione mumbled, keeping her eyes on her shoes.

"Hmm?" Snape stopped and turned to face her.

Glancing up, Hermione found herself caught once again in Snape's too-dark gaze. One of his eyebrows was arched just-so and before she knew what she was thinking, Hermione found herself spilling her guts to him.

"I have nowhere to go. This morning I was ready to start making decisions about my life, ready to finally move on from simply recovering and start making a choice about… well, everything. Then Ronald proposed–he wants to make a family with me. Who says that? Who starts the rest of their future by asking someone to make a family with them? It's not that I don't want a family, mind, because I do, but seriously… I'm more than a broodmare. Not that I'm saying Missus Weasley isn't absolutely amazing, because she is, I just want more from life than a Quidditch team of children and a library of household spells.

"Then I show up at Hogwarts and get every apprenticeship offered to me except the one I actually want, followed up by Kings–grrr–The Minister and that sodding arsehole, Harry Potter–Merlin help his soul if I should see him before I get a chance to cool down!–Can you believe they think I'd be perfectly happy holed up in the Department of Mysteries? They think I'd thrive down there! Who can thrive in a world where you can't have friends or family or… or… or anything other than a job? N-not that I have a family anymore be… be… because my mother disowned me and now I have absolutely nowhere to go and t-tomorrow it won't matter that I haven't been able to decide what to do with my life because a m-marriage law is going into effect and, knowing my luck, I'll probably get stuck with some Pureblood prick like Malfoy who expects their wife to be as functional as a pretty statue!"

Hermione was breathing heavily by the time she ran out of things to say. Her finger was jabbed into Snape's chest, poked between two ebony buttons on that maddening frock coat. For a brief moment, she contemplated flicking one of them open. Just because. It would be good to see her ever-calm-and-collected former professor just a little bit mussed. But then she shook her head, came to her senses and realized that not only had she accosted Snape's person for the second time that day, but she'd also dumped all of the baggage that had accumulated through the day–the last decade, really–onto the poor man.

Chagrined, she curled her finger away from those buttons and slowly, slowly lifted her gaze.

"I'm sorry, sir," she said, stepping back.

Snape caught her elbow, much like he had just that morning, and pursed his lips into a tight, thin line. He inhaled slowly and narrowed his eyes.

"What apprenticeship were you not offered?" he asked evenly.

Hermione blinked. "W-what?"

He blinked back. "You said you were offered every apprenticeship except the one you wanted. Which one is that?"

Thanking Merlin for the fading light of day that was hopefully hiding her blush, Hermione shook her head. "It doesn't matter. I-I was just venting."

That annoying eyebrow ticked upwards and Hermione swore Snape grinned at her. "Well, I assume Minerva offered you one, and Septima," he held up a hand and began ticking fingers off. "I already know Filius offered to duel anyone who refused him the right to offer you an apprenticeship. Pomona, Poppy, Hagrid–although we both know your forte isn't Care of Magical Creatures."

"Hey!"

He held one finger, his pointer, aloft in the air as if proving his point. "That just leaves–"

"You," Hermione gasped, mortified.

It took her several moments to realize the deep, rumbling sound emanating from her former professor was laughter. Mouth gaping open, Hermione was about to snap at him for making an already bad day worse when his hand convulsed on her elbow and his laughter dissolved into dark chuckles.

"I was going to say Aurora, but I can't see you staring at the stars for the rest of your days, can you?"

"No," Hermione agreed, shaking her head.

"Well then," he said, releasing her elbow and recasting his levitation spell on her trunk. "If you're going to consider a potion's apprenticeship, you'd better stay the night at the castle so you're up early enough to impress the resident Master with your brewing skills."

"What on earth will I brew tomorrow morning?" Hermione asked, feeling as though Snape was a thousand miles ahead of her in the conversation.

He grinned–definitely grinned–teeth flashing predatorily, and strode purposefully up the road towards Hogwarts. "Coffee, of course."

* * *

 _ **Thanks so much for reading! I'm really excited for this little story.**_

 _ **Blessings.**_


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